


Beat Rock Love: Soft Rock

by lucybeetle



Series: Beat Rock Love [6]
Category: Kamen Rider Ghost
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Crack, F/M, Fluff and Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 12:52:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7223083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucybeetle/pseuds/lucybeetle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Makoto accompanies Alan to an overseas work commitment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beat Rock Love: Soft Rock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [guava](https://archiveofourown.org/users/guava/gifts).



> As usual, devoted to guava, whose post-graduation trip to Korea inspired this chapter. I promise we'll be back to fun ATM hijinks next time.
> 
> Slight **warning** for possible suicidal themes (in one line of Makoto's song). It's nothing major, but better to be safe than sorry.

Makoto had been to Korea twice before. Once was when he’d dated Alan the first time around, and they’d taken a short trip for Alan’s birthday; the second was when he’d tagged along with Kanon and Fukushima Harumi on a girly shopping weekend. He couldn’t say Seoul was his favourite part of the country. He much preferred Jeju Island, where Alan had taken him all those years ago.

The flight was short and thankfully stress-free. As they walked through the arrivals lounge Alan handed Makoto a pair of stylish, yet undoubtedly expensive sunglasses, “Put these on.”

“It’s not sunny,” said Makoto.

“I have come to shoot a skincare promotion. You are my companion. Please try to look like you are mysterious, alluring, and have good skin.”

Makoto didn’t know how to do any of these things; but put the glasses on anyway.

Alan had shown Makoto pictures on the internet of the hotel where they were supposed to be staying. It was “only” four stars but it looked very luxurious in the photos; and even more so, when they were standing outside of it. Makoto couldn’t help wishing Alan had chosen somewhere a little less ostentatious. They’d be staying for only two nights, and Makoto preferred a familiar, cosier environment. He would trade the fanciest hotel in the world for an evening with Alan in their apartment, eating home-cooked food at their little dining table and then snuggling up to watch TV with Kanon.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” said Alan. “It came highly rated on the internet.” He pushed open the door and stopped in his tracks. Makoto went to move past; but Alan pulled him back, “Come along. We’re not staying here.”

“What? Why?” said Makoto. He followed Alan’s gaze. All Makoto could see was an attractive guy wearing expensive sunglasses like Alan’s.

“I’m not staying anywhere with any idols in it. Get moving. We’re finding another hotel.”

“For heaven’s sake,” said Makoto. He didn’t really watch any Korean media but he’d seen enough of it to recognise what an idol looked like here. Korea was much bigger on self-beautification than Japan, and had very high standards for body image. Makoto knew he would never be able to work in the entertainment industry here, and he thought he’d have a very tough time trying to date someone who did, “Don’t be stupid. What if we can’t get a reservation anywhere else? You’ll miss the shoot and get fired.”

“No, I won’t,” said Alan, “and if I did, my father would pay them off.”

“We can’t refuse to stay somewhere just because you don’t want to share it with someone who might look better than you.”

Alan gave Makoto such a withering look that Makoto had no choice but to quietly comply and follow him out of the hotel.

They trailed around looking on their phones to find hotels. At each one, Alan went up to the reception desk to negotiate. Makoto couldn’t help being a little envious of Alan’s proficiency in Korean, though he wasn’t quite sure _what_ was being said each time.

“What did you say?” Makoto asked, after one exchange with a desk clerk had got a little heated.

“I wanted to know if there were any idols staying there. He said he ‘wasn’t at liberty to divulge the guest list,’” said Alan.

“He’s just doing his job,” said Makoto. “Would _you_ like it if hotel staff told someone where we were staying?”

Unsurprisingly, by the time they went for lunch two hours later, they still hadn’t found anywhere else to stay.

 “I want takoyaki,” said Alan, lips twisted with petulance.

“You could have just looked on Google for somewhere that sells takoyaki. Anyway, you already eat it every day of the week. We’re in Korea. Why don’t you try something else?” said Makoto. He found Korean street food tasty, and a welcome change. What was the point in going overseas if you didn’t try anything new? “They had fried squid back there. I _asked_ you if you wanted any. You said no.”

“It’s not the same,” said Alan, and reached across to help himself to the rest of Makoto’s tteokbokki.

***

Just as Makoto was beginning to despair of finding a bed for the night at all, Alan announced he’d found somewhere.

“It’s cosy. It will give us a more genuine experience of Seoul than our original hotel would have,” said Alan.

Makoto bit back a rejoinder. He knew that Alan couldn’t care less about “experience” as long as the place was luxurious enough, which was why he was surprised to find that Alan had booked them into a cheap hostel.

“Didn’t think this would be your kind of place,” said Makoto.

“Neither did I … but there are no idols staying here.”

 “It’s a very big city. I’m sure you could find _one_ hotel where there are no idols,” said Makoto.

“Yes, and I found it. Here,” said Alan.

Alan had managed to get them a double room to themselves, so that was something. It was clean, rather poky, but better than the alternative; Makoto certainly didn’t fancy the prospect of having to squeeze into a dormitory full of backpackers. He lay down and tried out the bed. The mattress was very hard.

“It’s good for your spine. It will make your back nice and straight,” said Alan.

As Makoto unpacked, he had to keep ducking his head. He was tall, so he was used to this, but all the same he thought that if he’d been staying in a Japanese hostel the ceiling would probably be a little higher. When he went through to use their en-suite bathroom, he missed a low doorway and hit his head. “Ouch!”

“Watch what you’re doing, Makoto,” Alan called out.

Makoto came back through to speak to Alan directly, because otherwise he knew that Alan would get hurt and then complain endlessly, “The bathroom doorway is really low. Watch out for it.”

“Of course I will. I’m not clumsy like you,” said Alan. Within five minutes he had walked through the doorway and subsequently hit his head with a howl of pain.

“I did warn you,” said Makoto.

Alan came back and sat on their bed. He had his hand covering his forehead, and his eyes were dry; but his voice cracked painfully as he said “My face and career are ruined. I will be unable to shoot the commercial.”

“It might not be that bad,” said Makoto. “Let me see.”

It took a few moments to gently coax Alan into putting his hands down so that Makoto could examine him. Alan had a swollen little bump on his forehead but, once the redness subsided, it wouldn’t be too big. A makeup artist could probably cover it up, “You have a small bump on your head. You’ll be wearing makeup for the shoot anyway. Don’t worry about it.”

“What if they won’t let me do it? I’ll lose my contract. Father will be angry with me,” said Alan.

“No, he won’t. He really loves you.” That was true. Even though Alan’s father ruled a corporate empire, and ate small businesses for breakfast, and had all the “eccentricities” associated with the very rich, he did love Alan. Makoto had known Alan’s family for more than ten years now. While it was true that an outsider didn’t always know what happened behind closed doors, Makoto believed that Adonis couldn't have faked his warmth and affection towards his younger son, “He can always pay them off. He could probably buy Innisfree if he wanted to. Isn’t that what you said?”

Alan nodded, but he didn’t look any happier. Makoto held him closely for a minute or two, then said “We should get some ice for you to make the swelling go down. Stay there.”

Makoto didn’t speak any Korean, so there was no point in trying to ask for help at reception. He went out and found a convenience store where he could buy some frozen food. It felt like a waste, but needs must. After he’d wrapped the package in a towel, and held it against Alan’s injured forehead, the swelling and bruising began to reduce.

“It really doesn’t look that bad,” said Makoto, examining him. “I’m sure they’ll be able to cover it up tomorrow.”

Alan reached out his arms for Makoto; and Makoto took hold of him, carefully placing him down on one of the beds. They lay snuggled together all that night.

***

Alan seemed to be more or less back to his usual self by the morning. He and Makoto ate breakfast at a café together and then went to the commercial shoot. The makeup artists did in fact manage to cover up his bruised forehead, and it was difficult to see that he’d hit his face, unless you happened to be right up close to him.

Makoto sat as Alan worked on the filming, which involved him running around and making general frolicking motions in front of a green screen. A background would be added in production to give the appearance of him gambolling through a magical field. Makoto knew that all Innisfree commercials looked like this. Watching them didn’t particularly make him feel inclined to buy skincare; but evidently, it worked on some people.

After the filming finished, the boys had a break for lunch while the crew set up for a photoshoot of the posters that would accompany the TV commercial. They went to sit in a nearby park, Makoto enjoying the food whilst Alan fiddled with his phone. He held it up to record a video of himself.

“Hiiiiii! It’s Alan, and I’m in Korea, with my best friend Makoto! I’m shooting some cool new stuff with Innisfree! Look out for it! Bye bye!” Alan struck a cute pose and waved at the camera. He tapped the screen to upload the video to YouTube, “I wonder how many likes I can expect on this video.”

Makoto looked over Alan’s shoulder at the screen. He couldn’t help but notice the name that popped up on Alan’s YouTube channel – “Did you seriously call your channel Snubnose Poutylips?”

“Of course I did. My nose and lips are among my best physical features. Everyone says so, and Innisfree agrees.”

 Makoto wanted to say something about Alan’s egregious vanity; but decided against it. He knew from experience that Alan wouldn’t listen to a word. Asides of which, Makoto couldn’t deny that Alan _was_ beautiful. It was a compensation of dating him but it wasn’t what made Makoto’s heart beat faster for him.

Alan was taking selfies now, fluffing up his hair and puckering his lips as he posed for the camera.

“You look like a fish when you do that,” said Makoto, stifling a laugh.

“I think that’s a good thing,” said Alan. “You like the sea.”

***

Makoto and Alan enjoyed a peaceful Sunday exploring Seoul together, and then flew home that evening. They would be going back to rehearsals for ATM’s tour the following afternoon. They had Monday morning free, so Makoto took the time to catch up with some household chores. Kanon had been doing more than her fair share of the housework recently, now that her brother and Makoto had such a full schedule.

He was sorting the laundry when he noticed a pair of unfamiliar boxer shorts. They weren’t his, and they didn’t look like Alan’s style; everything Alan wore had to have a label on it (including underwear), while these were cheap and looked like they might have come out of a multi-pack. They were exactly the kind of underwear Javert might buy. Makoto’s jaw tightened in anger at the thought, but then his rational mind realised these were probably too small for Javert.

“Alan.” Makoto walked into their bedroom, holding the mysterious boxers aloft, “Do you recognise these?”

Alan looked up from his phone, and his nose crinkled, “They are certainly not mine. I hope they’re not yours either.”

Makoto sighed. That made sense. Even if Alan were to have an affair, he would definitely choose someone with more expensive taste in underpants.

“By the way, my Innisfree backstage video has over seven thousand likes already on YouTube. We should do a special video together when I hit ten thousand subscribers,” said Alan.

Well, that was a nice idea, but it didn’t solve the underwear mystery. Puzzled, Makoto went back out into the main room, just as Kanon walked in.

“Onii-chan, what are those?” she said, and gestured to the boxer shorts.

“They were in with our laundry … but they’re not mine, and they’re not Alan’s. You don’t recognise them, do you?” said Makoto.

Her face had begun turning pink, and she wasn’t meeting Makoto’s gaze, “N-no! I don’t know where they came from!”

Makoto remembered her asking about his plans for the trip to Seoul, checking that he’d be away all weekend. That explained it – she’d had her boyfriend over. The boyfriend that she didn’t want Makoto to know she had. The stray underwear made Makoto a little uneasy, but Kanon was entitled to her private life. He thought back to their conversation about the possibility of her moving out; and felt a little sad.

***

Technically, Makoto and Alan had two anniversaries. There was the day they’d first reunited, earlier this year; and the day they’d gone on their first date, more than ten years ago. Today being the latter anniversary, it held a lot of personal meaning for them. They bought some of Fumi-baa’s takoyaki and sat in the park together.

“I have a present for you,” said Alan, when Fumi-baa had returned to her stall.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“You buy me a lot of presents despite being comparatively poor. I will never forget our first Christmas together,” said Alan. “You gave me a motorbike repair kit, even though I have never owned a bike.”

“I thought you were going to buy one. You said you would, so we could ride together,” said Makoto. “We looked at bikes. We test-drove bikes. You bought all the protective gear. Then you said it was a waste of money when you could just sit on the back of _my_ bike.”

“I didn’t say that,” replied Alan blithely. “Here.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a small package, which he handed to Makoto.

The parcel was shaped like a flat box. Makoto felt his heart beat faster. It was too big to be a ring; that was for sure. Or was it? It would be just like Alan to get him a ring. Even though that would be a ridiculous, empty gesture. Did he or didn’t he want it to be a ring? _Of course not_ , Makoto’s inner voice said. _Even Alan wouldn’t be that stupid_. All the same, he felt a tiny twinge of disappointment at the prospect that it might _not_ be a ring. Makoto forced down that little feeling of dissent; and opened the packaging.

The box didn’t contain a ring. It was a bracelet with a pretty, thin chain and a lock charm attached to it.

“Do you like it?” said Alan eagerly. “I have one that has a key. Now we match.”

“It looks like a manacle,” said Makoto. 

“Put it on,” said Alan, and Makoto complied. The delicate chain did look good against his thin, pale wrist. Despite Alan’s eccentricities it had to be said that he did have some semblance of taste – occasionally. The park was fairly quiet at this hour, so Makoto felt comfortable with giving Alan a little hug. Alan kissed Makoto’s cheek and they sat snuggled in companionable silence for a few moments.

“I didn’t get you anything,” Makoto admitted. “I’m short of cash. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Sing to me,” said Alan.

“What?”

“Sing to me. I love your voice.”

“What should I sing?” Makoto asked.

“Anything you want,” said Alan.

Makoto instantly thought of “Wonderland,” his favourite of ATM’s songs, the lyrics he’d written to a gentle love ballad. Even though Alan thought those lyrics were ridiculous, Makoto didn’t care. The song meant a lot to him, and more so than ever today, when he wanted to express his feelings for the person he loved. He opened his mouth and began:

_Wake up late, look in the mirror, scream. Wonder why a murder victim is staring back at me, then_

_I realise it’s myself. You walk in and kiss me, sharing more than germs and bacteria. That’s when_

_I think: if eyes are windows to the soul, yours belong in a derelict building that’s just been vandalised again._

_Your love cleanses my soul like rehab can’t, but you’re hopelessly devoted to yourself._

_I want to climb your body and throw myself off the top of your ego, cos you’ve ruined me for anybody else_

_Yeahhhh_

_You take me to a wonderland_

_Where everything is within you and about you_

_You’re like oxygen, water, gravity, chocolate pudding, and sand_

_Because I don’t know how I ever survived without you_

_I scream into the wilderness_

_My heart is full of emptiness_

_But I want to find that wonderland where there’s no one and nothing but you._

_Go to work, get fired, go home in despair. I should do something useful, so I guess I’ll clean the floor._

_You never learn from your mistakes, and until you do, we’ll just have to keep making more and more._

_As you begin to kiss me senseless, I want to taste your teeth and inhale your essence and breath._

_There are no more words to say. We close the distance between us until I’m slightly afraid you might crush me to death._

_You take me to a wonderland_

_And I stare into the gaping void above you_

_Still unsure of when I’ll understand_

_Exactly what it is that makes me love you_

_Sometimes I think I’ll never know why_

_But I’ll be yours until I die_

_And I want to find that wonderland where there’s no one and nothing but you._

The song came to an end, and Makoto looked away, feeling slightly self-conscious. Alan had heard the song, and they’d rehearsed it with Takeru several times. But that was different from singing it by himself, to Alan, who had inspired the very real and deep feelings behind the song.

Alan smiled, “Your voice is so beautiful.”

They were still in public, with Fumi-baa close by; so it was difficult to kiss. Instead, Alan put his arm around Makoto’s shoulder, and Makoto leaned against him companionably. They stayed in that position for several comfortable minutes until Alan said “I have just two criticisms. First, I think you should replace the words ‘chocolate pudding’ with ‘takoyaki.’”

“It has to be chocolate pudding. It’s dark and sticky like a tormented soul, but sweet and delicious like love,” said Makoto.

 Alan ignored him, “Second, shouldn’t it be ‘ _I_ walk in and kiss _you_? Like walking into the derelict building. It doesn’t make sense the other way around.”

“They’re my lyrics. I wrote them. I’m not changing them. Why can’t you just be happy for once? It’s our anniversary,” said Makoto.

“Of course I’m happy,” said Alan, and his expression was twisted in confusion, “You have made me happy every day for ten years.”

Makoto wondered for a moment why his cheeks hurt. It took a little while to dawn on him that that was how wide his smile was, “I think we should go home.”

“Not until I get some more takoyaki,” said Alan. “I’m still hungry.”

He went to pick up some more boxes of takoyaki and say goodbye to Fumi-baa. Makoto waited patiently for him, and then Alan laced their fingers together, and the two of them walked home in affectionate silence.


End file.
